Sabrina Thorne slipped through the shadowed corridors of Blizzard Moon’s packhouse, her sandy blonde hair tucked under a hood, steps silent as a predator’s prowl. The liberation had come at dawn like a storm, shattering the occupation that had held her pack in chains for a week. But victory’s taste was bitter on her tongue.
The council had ended hours ago, yet the image burned behind her eyes: Lilith’s voluminous black hair brushing Jackson’s shoulder as they laughed quietly with the allied alphas, his hand possessively on the small of her back, her ruby eyes sparkling like she belonged there. Like she had any right to stand beside the future king. Every smile the half-breed gave him was a slap across Sabrina’s face in front of every pack that mattered.
She had been eight years old when
